She pulled the car into the back parking lot, tucking it away in the furthest corner away from the view of the street. She looked around nervously before putting on her sunglasses, looking at herself in her vanity mirror. She fluffed her hair, smacking her lips as her heart hammered and raced in her chest. She had to take deep breaths to slow her pulse, trying to calm herself. She knew she shouldn’t be here, doing this. It was a betrayal to her husband and her family. Everything that she had managed to build up in her life.

And right now, none of that mattered. That was the sad truth. Her kids, her husband, none of them mattered at the moment. This had been building up for years, from vanilla sex to pecks on the cheek, as inertia set in and solidified into nothingness. Her soul, or lack of one, had built up a rage, a need, a primal want that couldn’t be denied. And so she found herself outside the adult theater, one which she hadn’t been inside for nearly 10 years. Where an old “friend” had brought her, then left her, drunk. She had been dating Paul then, now her husband, and she had “gone out of town”, to meet up with her friend. The one who knew the darkness within her, that knew of her abuse, that touched parts of her that she hated, and yet made her feel more alive than anything else. When she woke, defiled by who knows how many men, she was thankful that somehow she hadn’t gotten any serious STDs but she had caught something. A daughter. Paul had been so happy that he quickly proposed. No one would ever know it wasn’t his.

And now, she was here again, called to it by some broken piece of her that couldn’t feel love from a kiss but somehow a gang rape could give her value and fill that emptiness inside her. She was here again, weak, hating herself, but not enough to stop and not open the door and head inside. She’d been obsessing over it for weeks, the thought fixated in her mind, unable to escape it even in her sleep. She paced and adjusted her dress. Short, loose, with nothing under. No bra or panties, just her sluttiest heels. Easy access for a mom who couldn’t cope with the banality of her life anymore and needed to escape it, even if only for a few hours.

She walked inside the store and her nose was immediately assaulted by the stale smell of sweat, sex, and cum. A sour cloud wafted from the cigarette the man behind the counter was smoking. She wanted to turn back, some decent part of her screamed to turn around, but she smothered it, wishing for it to die. She needed this. She smiled at him behind her sunglasses, handed him cash and her ID, and asked for singles to use in the booths. He smiled a sickening smile, ignoring her face and looking at her chest. Then he nodded towards the back where they were to be found. In the same place as 10 years ago, screens waited for her, beckoning. She felt her wetness, heat emanating against the cool air between her legs. She needed this.

She noticed men watching her, the sole woman, as she headed back to the booths. Some immediately followed her and some pretended to browse closer to that section. Her heart raced, briefly dark, hoping they would just jump her and rape her, to remove her choice and the guilt. It wouldn’t be her fault then if they did that to her. She breathed deeply, her hands shaking, as she walked the dark hallway. She glanced inside a central booth and frowned, finding solid walls. Then another, just the same. On her third glance, she found one with the hole she desired. The hole that would let her not be a mom or a wife, just a whore and a cunt. Free, if only for a while.

She went inside the booth and locked it. She slipped several ones inside the machine, porn instantly coming to life on the old TVs, flickering in poor color. She flipped around, hearing movement in the booth beside her, as the man in the booth next to her did much the same. She flipped past the normal porn, lesbians unrealistically scissoring, unlikely positions that required endurance beyond normal men, until she found something degrading. Some poor porn star, trying to smile a dead-eyed smile as her ass was fucked by two guys as she jerked off two more. They spit on her, they slapped her, and by god, she wished that it was her. She reached down and rubbed herself, soaked, shaking as she saw the man on the other side of the panel watching her. She smiled weakly, parting her lips as his fingers beckoned her over.

“Come,” was all he said and she did, pulling her dress over her head. She tossed it to the floor, likely staining it, but she didn’t care. His rough fingers gave her more pleasure than her husband had in years. They jabbed at her, clearly not caring about her pleasure but how it felt to him. She turned around, pressing herself against the booth as he fingered her and probed her ass. She knelt and bobbed her head up and down his cock as soon as he pushed it through, shaking almost violently. She thought she was going to explode, the only thought in her was cock and need. She asked if he had a condom and he pulled back and handed one to her. She tore the package and pulled it over his cock, then spread and presented herself for him. Her eyes were locked on the whore on the TV as his cock slid easily in her wet cunt, pumping into her. She wondered briefly who was the bigger whore but she didn’t care. She ground back, shaking more and more, pinching her clit and rubbing it, her legs almost buckling as she came. The man probably thought he was a sex god but the truth was it had been months since she’d orgasmed. She felt him shudder soon after. She knelt, pulling off the condom and cleaning him. He opened the door to his booth and left as another man took his place.